


At Last

by martinnn



Series: Bad End Nightmares [1]
Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Koujaku's Good End, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, i actually don't loathe this ending???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 09:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13244988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martinnn/pseuds/martinnn
Summary: This dream, this recurringnightmarehas to be the worst one yet.





	At Last

Aoba’s had his fair share of third person dreams. You know the ones; where he’d separated from his body, an individual deity, simply observing what happens. Like that one dream with the spider (he still hates spiders). There’s even been weird third point of view lingos in some dreams-- he is in his own body, but unable to dictate what it does.

Those ones are definitely odd, and he doesn't like the feeling of waking from one. But this dream, this recurring _nightmare_ has to be the worst one yet.

He is in his body, or at least, he thinks he is, but at the same time, it is not his own. Looking down it is plain to see that the body he is in is pure white; skin, clothes, hair. Aoba was scared at first of his body. _This wasn’t him._ But his fear quickly changed when he realized who the other subject in his dream was.

Koujaku. 

And Aoba didn’t know why. Koujaku and he were happy. Koujaku had cut his hair short-- Aoba trusted him enough to do that. He had doubts in the beginning if their relationship would even work seeing as Koujaku had ever shown interests in girls before. But with time and reassurance, it was made clear that Koujaku only had eyes for Aoba. 

So, why was he in Aoba’s dream? And why did he look like a beast from hell? His hair was different. His eyes were different. He moved and sounded like an animal. The real Aoba was terrified of him. The dream Aoba cherished him. 

In the dream, Aoba-- or, at least the body he was occupying--doted on Koujaku the way one would a pet, which only added to the resemblance of a beast. And even though is dream movements were soft and kind, Koujaku would snarl and snap at him. More often times than not, he would catch Aoba’s flesh in his teeth, tearing the skin, causing him to bleed. Dream Aoba just loved him more for this. He would comb Koujaku’s hair as the man bit into him and then further use the blood leaking from his chest or arm or leg in sick, lewd ways. 

The real Aoba tried to stop it. When that proved futile, he at least tried to close his eyes. But that too was useless. He couldn’t do anything. He was forced to watch the man he love become a beast nightly and physically tear him apart with no real trace of it the following morning except a twisted grin on Aoba’s otherwise terrified face.

The dreams were having a detrimental effect on their relationship. Aoba began to develop a fear of his own body. Who was to say that he wouldn’t snap? When would the switch be flipped and he turn into a masochistic, sadistic psycho with a thing for using his own blood as lube?

So, in a perfectly sound attempt to save them both from that, he distanced himself from Koujaku. Gone were the days of curling up together in the sunlight on lazy days. Gone were the nights of passionate sex. Gone was the reassurance that Koujaku was his and his alone. Aoba didn't even know if his own _body_ was his and his alone. 

Koujaku must have sensed something was wrong. Like the great boyfriend he was, he let it be for a while, busing himself with work so much that he was itchy with hair. But eventually, it caught up with the both of them. Aoba truly did hate feeling like this. He just wanted the dreams to go away so he could feel safe in Koujaku’s hold again. He could tell the man wanted the same thing. He saw the way his face fell when Aoba shied away from his hand. He didn’t miss the curl of his shoulder and the frown that worried his brow the moment Aoba casually and skillfully slipped out of his hold.

The final straw wa drawn when Aoba refused to let him cut his hair. It’d grown out a bit and now almost touched his shoulders. He vaguely agreed when Koujaku offered to cut it again. He’d then forgotten that he’d made such agreement until he came home from work and Koujaku had set up the hairdresser’s chair in the front room. 

Aoba paused by the door, at the tips of his hair in apprehension. Koujaku looked up from the stool he was perched on and sighed when he caught Aoba’s look. “Aoba, what’s wrong?” He asked with an edge of what Aoba would label as annoyance in his voice.

Aoba swallowed. “Nothing,” he lied smoothly. “I just forgot--”

“No.” Koujaku cut him off. “I know that look on your face. That’s not the look of ‘I forgot I agreed to have my hair cut.’ It isn’t even the look of ‘I want to grow it out long again.’ That’s the look of regret and… fear.”

Aoba bit his lip. He really couldn’t hide anything from Koujaku. They’d know each other for so long he was like an open book. Koujaku hadn’t moved from his seat, though he looked like he wanted to come collect Aoba’s hands in his own and pull him down to sit and talk. “I don’t know why you’d be scared of me,” Koujaku continued, voice a little softer. “I know I’ve acted out before. You can talk to me about anything, you know.”

Aoba nodded, but then paused. “I’m not scared of you,” he explained lamely. “I’m scared… of myself.”

This brought a fresh wave of emotion to Koujaku’s face and Aoba’s sighed because this was exactly what he didn’t want. He’d do anything to not bring any sort of hurt on his boyfriend and yet, here they were. Koujaku looked at a loss for words. “Do you… Do you want to talk about it?” He offer patiently and while he voice sounded understanding, Aoba knew he didn’t know a correct way to respond. As a hairdresser, he could enduringly listen to his customers’ stories and problems all day, but he never had to offer remedies.

Aoba sighed. He saw Koujaku trying and that made him want to confess even more. But he didn’t know if he could deal with more of that heartbroken look. He tore his eyes away from the man’s face before he spoke again. “I’ve been having these dream-- nightmares is more accurate. I don’t know how to explain it, it’s like I’m me, like I’m in my body, but I’m not myself. It’s not even my body, I can’t control it. And… I mean, that’s not the worst part-- it’s scary but not unbearable. The worst is that… you’re there. But you’re not you. You’re different. You’re scary. It’s not you. It doesn't even look like you, but the me that’s not me calls it by your name. And, every night, every time the you that’s not you attacks me. It doesn't hurt after I wake up, but you bite and scratch me like an animal. And… in the dream, I like that?” He stopped talking. Honestly, it was traumatizing enough to think about it on his own, but to have to explain it vividly to Koujaku was too much. Aoba’s eyes had fallen shut and he jaw was clenched. It didn’t unclench until he heard a soft, “Aoba.” His eyes opened and he faced the man that had called his name.

Koujaku’s eyes were gentle and his lips played around a soft, calm, nonvindictive smile. “Aoba, they’re just dreams.”

A blush rose on his face and Aoba forced himself not to look away again. “I know that,” he grumbled a little softly. “Doesn't mean--”

“I know they’re scary,” Koujaku cut in. “You think I haven’t had my own share of nightmares? I killed my own mother, Aoba. I’ve been plagued with bad dreams my whole life.”

Aoba frowned. He hadn’t considered that.

Koujaku pushed on before either of them could think about it for too long. “They are just dreams,” he reiterated. “And they may be scary, even more so because they’re uncontrollable, but they can’t actually hurt you. I mean, look at me. Do you really think I’m some blood-thirsty devil?” Aoba shook his head. “And look at you, do you really think you’re some masochistic monster?” Aoba shook his head again. “So there you have it. These dreams can’t hurt you.” Aoba met Koujaku’s eyes and nodded. He was right, as he typically was. The finality with which the man said it, convinced him of nothing else. They were just silly nightmares.

“Now,” Koujaku said, with a relieved smile. “The only thing that can hurt you, are those horrendous split ends. Let me cut your hair _please_.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm debating writing ren's route...  
> moreover i wish virus and trip had a good end. i love those not twins.


End file.
